Yet another commendable anthology from Petri Sakari and the Iceland orchestra – a most enjoyable conclusion to their Sibelius symphony cycle for Naxos. Sakari’s Sixth impresses by dint of its unpretentious honesty and quiet cogency. As on previous instalments within this series, the Icelanders respond with a keen fervour as contagious as it is heartwarming. Their woodwind roster comprises an especially personable bunch, and if the strings inevitably lack that very last ounce of tonal clout and sheer composure provided by, say, Karajan’s Berlin Philharmonic or the San Francisco Symphony under Blomstedt – to name but two of the strongest rivals – there’s no missing the touching expressive warmth they bring to the work’s transcendental closing pages. In Sakari’s hands both outer movements develop real fire and purpose, and he uncovers plenty of happy detail along the way – the distinctive colouring of the bass clarinet being one of this performance’s chief pleasures.
Sakari’s Seventh, too, is very good indeed, patient and imaginative in the manner of Vanska, or Sanderling’s much underrated, irresistibly sinewy 1974 recording with the Berlin Symphony Orchestra. I suppose the Iceland Symphony’s principal trombonist could have been just a touch more assertive for that heroic initial solo six bars after fig C, and the timpanist appears to enter a bar late just before fig E, but my only sizeable niggle concerns Sakari’s not-quite-seamless handling of that tricky Poco a poco affrettando transition passage into the Vivacissimo section beginning at fig J, itself not entirely free of a certain breathless fluster. All of which means, of course, that Sakari’s conception as a whole is not as thrillingly inevitable an experience as Koussevitzky’s, Maazel’s (a magnificent reading, sounding fresher than ever on a new Decca Legends compilation) or Boult’s masterly 1963 concert relay with the RPO (to be reviewed next month). I don’t want to be too critical, though; Sakari builds the shattering Largamente climax at fig Z superbly, and the closing bars are exceptionally fine. Not a front-runner, perhaps, but no mean achievement all the same.
A very likeable release, then, whose attractions are enhanced by the inclusion of a thoughtful and shapely account of the rarely heard Second Suite from Sibelius’s 1925 incidental music for The Tempest. The balance here is perhaps a little closer than ideal; otherwise, the open, airy recorded sound falls very gratefully on the ear (listen out for some notably natural bass sonorities). Well worth investigating at Naxos price.'